Into the Light
by Pericula Ludus
Summary: Follows on from "Through the Darkness". Erebor has been reclaimed and Fíli is King under the Mountain. Living in a ruinous mountain brings with it many challenges, and Fíli is frustrated that he cannot address them all at once. Dís is going to arrive soon and Fíli is somewhat afraid of what she will think. Won 1st place in Feels for Fíli Campaign, Mini Contest #7 - Life in Erebor.
1. Chapter 1

**Into the Light**

"Are you in pain?"

"No."

"You look like you are hurting."

"I'm fine."

"Don't lie to me. I can tell you are not fine. I'm your brother after all."

Fíli overheard the brief conversation and it made him sad. The worst part was that it could have taken place between any of the pairs of brothers currently assembled in the kitchen. Fíli clutched his cup of tea tightly until his palm was stinging from the heat. There was still so much pain, even months after the battle.

Fíli downed his tea in one big gulp. It scorched his throat. He shook his head and grimaced. The tea was strong, black and bitter. He got up and thanked Bombur for the meal. Nodding towards the others, he walked towards the low door. He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. In here, he was still mostly Fíli. Out there, he was King under the Mountain. He insisted on breaking his fast with the other members of Thorin's company every morning. Just a little moment of being Fíli before he started his day as king.

A few of the former royal chambers had been restored sufficiently to be inhabitable. Fíli shared the largest with his brother. Apparently it was an important gesture. For Fíli it was mainly a practical matter. The corridors in that part of the mountain were wider and there were no stairs to be overcome. Such things mattered now that Kíli had lost the use of his legs. Next to them, Balin and Dwalin had moved into a second chamber with Dáin squatting in a smaller one, which Balin said had once been a servant's room. Such things did not matter now that they were all much the same, trying to survive the winter and to restore the desolate mountain.

Ori followed him out of the door. He was the only one to accompany Fíli on his daily walks through the mountain. The lack of a proper guard had aggravated Dwalin, but Fíli had insisted that he was among friends here and could very well defend himself if the need should arise. There were only a few hundred dwarves in the mountain, and even counting the Lakemen, the residents numbered less than a thousand. Fíli could not see a danger to himself here. Once more people arrived; he would rethink the matter of his personal security. Hopefully, by then Dwalin would be fit for duty once more.

Ori rattled off a list of the daily duties. Matters were becoming less desperate now. The problems at hand were no longer urgent to ensure their mere survival as so much had been in the early weeks after the battle. The wounded had recovered as far as they ever would. Their basic needs were now met. There were regular food deliveries from the Iron Hills, Mirkwood and a few scattered settlements of Men. The plumbing within the mountain was once again functioning and the plentiful snow had provided sufficient clean water in the meantime. The Elves had departed with a promise to send regular envoys from now on. The alliance seemed to hold so far, which delighted Fíli. Relations with the Men were better than ever. Once the snow had started to melt, Bard had led a small workforce out towards Dale to commence the rebuilding of that city. Fíli had seconded a few of his builders who had experience with over-ground construction. Both Erebor and Dale would flourish once more.

Their first appointment for the day took place far down in the crypts. The stonemasons had reported that they had completed the work on the tombs. Fíli was keen to see the memorial to those who had given their lives in defence of Erebor and the freedom of the people of the North.

They greeted him with low bows. He was still not used to the courtesy everybody showed him, even though he had now been king for more than three months.

"Your majesty, you honour us greatly by inspecting our humble work," said the foreman.

"Just Fíli to you, my good dwarf, we are all working towards the same goal," said Fíli, "I come not to inspect but merely to delight in your craft."

He had not been down here since his rather futile visit to Thorin's tomb. He glanced towards it now, but felt now desire to go over there. Instead he followed the workers towards the far side of the hall where four chambers had been blocked off by large slabs of marble. Each chamber held the bodies of at least three dozen warriors.

The craftsmanship was exquisite. The marble had been polished to a shine and gleamed white in the torch-lit darkness of the crypts. The lines of the engravings were clear and even. Fíli traced a few of the names with his finger.

Ljomi son of Loni.

Nithi son of Nyi.

Galar son of Lofar.

So many had fallen.

Fíli took a step back and praised their work. His words were met with more low bows and appreciative murmurs. A cup was handed to him as he stood and admired the fitting tribute to the dead. His eyes fell on the large runes along the top of the blocks of marble.

"When you go home, tell them of us and say: For your tomorrow, we gave our today," he read and felt tears gather behind his eyes.[1]

Swiftly, he drank his tea. It was even more bitter than Bombur's had been. The taste made the hair on his arms stand on end, but at least it cleared his head. Builder's brew.

The rest of Fíli's day was spent in meetings with various committees. They had received word from the Ered Luin. A caravan of their kin was on its way towards Erebor. If all went well, they should arrive at the Mountain in a few weeks' time. Living quarters were being prepared. Fresh water supplies were being rerouted. The plumbing was once again a concern. Fíli would thank Mahal on the day he did not hear anything about the accursed plumbing any more. The new arrivals should find a home rather than a dragon's abode when they reached Erebor. There was a quiet agreement among all parties that none should ever see the full extent of the damage done by Smaug, nor understand the full impact of the dreadful battle. Their tomorrow should hold as few traces as possible of the struggles of today.

* * *

><p>"She will be here soon," Fíli said with a sigh, briefly massaging his forehead before he turned away from the papers on his desk to look at his brother.<p>

Kíli grinned broadly, leaning against the headboard of the large bed they shared, a whittling knife in his hand.

"I know, I'm so excited!" he exclaimed.

Fíli sighed again and buried his face in his hands. Mahal give me strength.

"How are we going to… she doesn't know yet… how can we ever explain… That!"

"Cheer up, misery guts! Not much you need to explain, I'm sure mum will be able to work out on her own that I didn't just suddenly grow a set of wheels for no particular reason."

"Exactly," Fíli said, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes briefly so he did not have to look at said set of wheels. "We can't really hide… that."

"Don't you dare go hiding my lovely chair," cried Kíli, the brightness in his voice sounding somewhat forced now.

"We should have told her in a letter."

"She would have worried for months."

"She would have been right to worry!"

"Nah, I'm fine."

"You are _not_ fine!"

"Look who's talking…"

"I saw you at the coronation feast," said Fíli. He had never brought it up so far. "I saw you when the dancing started."

"More importantly, you saw me when the next morning started… I admit it, I admit it, I should not have had that much of the Iron Hills whisky! That stuff burns like a forge fire!"

Would he never lose his cheerful tone?

"It was not just the alcohol. You were devastated."

"Alright, alright, you know I like a good dance!"

"So you grabbed a bottle instead."

"It's not like I'll be spinning any lassies around again, now, is it?" Kíli smirked, but sounded a little bit more serious.

"I should have spoken with you that night."

"You had a few other people to talk to."

"You are my brother, I should have made time for you. I could see you were not well."

"I was upset, is all. You've got a kingdom to manage now, not just one glaikit little brother. Bofur and that whisky kept me pretty good company."

"You shouldn't talk about this so lightly…"

"Right, so what do you want me to say? Aye, it hit me like a cart full of iron ore that this is my life now and that it's not what I ever imagined or wanted! Happy now?" Kíli shouted.

"I didn't mean to…," Fíli started in alarm.

He made to stand up and walk over to the bed, but as soon as he moved a muscle, the small whittling knife flew past him and stuck quivering in the pile of papers he had been reading.

"Well, then don't!" exclaimed Kíli. "Don't treat me like a helpless child. I didn't want this any more than you wanted to be king, but this is who we are now and we both have to deal with it!"

"I'm sorry," Fíli said, looking over at his brother. "I'm still getting used to all of this and I don't think I'm adapting as quickly as you are."

Kíli's features softened and his voice was quiet once more when he spoke again.

"I know you've got lots to worry about. And I want to help you. I can't do much of all that kingly nonsense. But you know how mum always said I could charm the very rock of the mountain? I can do that. I can talk to the people and make sure they see me and they laugh and think about happy things. You do all the serious stuff. But let me be in charge of the fun. Maybe I can help you just a little with morale."

Fíli stared at him. So that was behind his brother's unquenchable spirit and cheerfulness. He swallowed hard. He was not used to having such serious conversations with Kíli. He hoped he would understand all the things he could not put into words.

"You are doing a pretty good job," Fíli said simply.

"We both are," Kíli said with a smile. "Mum is going to be so proud."

"You think so?"

"What's not to be proud of," Kíli declared grandly. "I mean, just look at you all grown up and kingly! She is going to burst with pride."

"And look at you…"

"Still dashingly handsome and charming as ever, and finally putting my talents to good use in supporting you with running the mighty kingdom of Erebor. That's what you were going to say, wasn't it?"

Fíli had to smile at that.

"And still so humble," he teased.

"Exactly the baby boy she missed so much and wants to hug again."

Fíli walked over to the bed and hugged him instead. They sat in silence for a while. When Fíli spoke again, his voice had a contemplative tone.

"I just want it to be good for her… after all those years, after all she has been through, she finally gets to come home again… and it's not really what we hoped for…"

"Mum always said that home is where the family is. And we are here. She'll be just fine."

"It's not just us though."

"She knows Thorin is dead."

There was nothing easy about telling his mother that her last remaining brother had died, but compared to everything else it had not been that difficult. _She knew I would not return… Tell her that I love her, that I have always loved her, even when I was too blind to see that at times. _Thorin had thought about her near the end. When he had been himself. Fíli hugged Kíli tightly. He was so glad to still have his sibling with him.

"You know how close she is to Dwalin…"

"He is a warrior. He lives. That is probably more than mum ever hoped for, more than Dwalin ever hoped for."

Dwalin had been so desperate to die. So eager to follow Thorin. _No, not you. You are alive. _He lived, but he was not the same dwarf who had hugged their mother goodbye all those months ago.

"I hope she is going to like Erebor."

"I'm sure she will."

"Do you like it?" Fíli asked.

"Sure. Bit dusty and crumbly and still stinks of dragon, but it's quite decent," his brother answered with a shrug.

"Not much to look at though, is it?"

"It's her home. I'm sure it's different for her," Kíli stated confidently.

"She was only a little girl when Smaug came," Fíli said with a sigh. He really was not sure about any of this.

"She liked it," Kíli said, "She told us stories about it, remember? She loved her room."

"And the canopy," Fíli joined in with the nostalgic mood.

"The darkest blue velvet with silver embroidery," Kíli repeated their mother's words, "At night it would sparkle and the whole starry sky was stretched out above her when she slept."

"She loved that canopy."

"Is it still there?"

"Don't be silly. That would have rotted long ago."

"Would be great to give her her room back," Kíli mused.

"It would be," Fíli said, "but Balin told me it was down the corridor to the east of our chamber. The one that's missing the central support column."

"Ah, shame," Kíli sighed, knowing full well that that meant that it was not safe to enter the corridor, much less the room.

"We still have time," he continued, "we could get it all sorted out. And we could make her a new canopy."

"Don't know where you have been living," Fíli teased, "but last I checked there was no velvet being sold at the cloth merchant's stand at the central market."

"Mainly because there is neither a central market nor a cloth merchant," Kíli responded dryly. "It would be marvellous though," he said, "I wish we could do that."

"There are more important things to be done," Fíli said to shut him down, "we will soon have even more people to look after."

Despite his dismissal of his brother's idea, it stayed with Fíli. To restore their mother's room to its former glory and to give her beloved starry canopy back to her, would certainly make her feel welcome and at home in Erebor, despite everything else.

* * *

><p>Late the next night, when everyone in the mountain lay fast asleep and his brother was snoring softly at his side, Fíli got up and left their shared room on silent stocking feet. He closed the heavy stone door carefully and turned towards the left. He stepped over the low barrier the builders had put up to keep people from wandering off into the unsafe corridors. It did not take him long to find the room. Even if his mother's name had not been carved into the door that hung loosely in its frame, he would have realised that this was the correct room, as soon as he raised his torch to see more clearly.<p>

Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust. There was rubble in the corner, but most of the items that had undoubtedly once been in the room, had long since disappeared. A few colourless rags lay on the intricately carved four-poster bed. By now, Fíli knew from experience that they would disintegrate at the slightest touch. Dust. Everything was crumbling, turning into dust. But on the rags there was the eerie white porcelain head of a doll. Its body long since gone, it seemed to stare out at him unseeingly.

His foot hit something small that rolled away noisily across the stone floor. Marbles. Many colourful glass marbles. He put the torch into a steel bracket next to the door. His mother had been a child here. Dís, princess of the House of Durin, youngest of Thráin's children. A happy, carefree childhood surrounded by a loving family and every amenity gold could procure. In here, his mother had been happy.

One of the walls had caved in and there was a large crack running diagonally across the floor. Two of the bedposts had crumbled; the remaining ones sticking out like the arms of a drowning man. Drowning, or burning. It had all ended in fire. The stone was blackened in places. Furnishings he knew would have been present had left no trace. No decorations, nor even a lamp, remained. All had turned to darkness.

Darkness and dust were all that remained of his mother's happy childhood. Dís, mother of the King under the Mountain, daughter of dead parents, wife of a dead husband, sister of dead brothers. After all of her suffering, he wanted to give her something back. Even if it was just something small like a room. At least he could give her something.

Fíli gathered the rags from the bed. As he had predicted, they fell apart at his touch. But somebody had to clean up here. And he could not spare the manpower. He knew they had more important things to do. His mother could find a dwelling in another, less damaged part of the mountain. But he wanted to give her a home, not a dwelling. Furiously, Fíli brushed the dirt from the stone bedstead. He could do this. He could fix this.

He must have been a bit too energetic. With a sharp crack, one of the remaining pillars fell. Several large pieces tumbled onto the bed, the noise echoing loudly in the nearly empty room. Fíli had quickly jumped backwards, but could not escape the falling rocks entirely. One piece hit his shoulder and he could not suppress a hiss of pain.

"Mahal," he cursed. His shoulder was still tender where the spear had pierced it, even now, four months after the battle. To make matters worse, he could hear the noise of a door being thrown open. It would be a real pleasure to explain his little nighttime excursion to an unsafe part of the mountain to the guards.

Heavy steps and torchlight in the corridor.

"Who's there? Show yourself!"

Dwalin. For a moment Fíli considered crawling underneath the bed and hiding. He felt like a dwarfling again, caught red-handed at something he knew he should not be doing.

"It's me, Fíli!" he called out just as Dwalin entered the room, torch in one hand and a long dagger in the other.

Dwalin stopped in his tracks and raised an eyebrow, but at least had the good grace to not comment on the state Fíli was in, in his nightclothes and covered in dust. A thoroughly kingly appearance.

"What are you doing here, laddie?" Dwalin asked, sitting down heavily on the bed, his bad leg stretched out in front of him.

"Just looking 'round," Fíli mumbled, hoping that the dim torchlight would hide that he was blushing.

"I know you're king and can go anywhere, but going into an unstable room at night doesn't sound like the smartest of ideas to me," Dwalin said, wagging his finger. Oh great, next he was going to tell him that he was certainly not too old for a good walloping. Not that Dwalin had usually been in charge of that, but he would not put it past him to pick up from where Thorin had left off.

"It will not happen again," Fíli said, hoping to close the matter.

"This is Dís' room," Dwalin stated.

"I know," Fíli admitted.

"She loved this room."

"I know."

"And her canopy."

"The darkest blue velvet with sparkling silver stars."

"That's the one."

"I wish it was here now," Fíli said. "I wish it was still her room."

"She will be her soon, and she will make sure it becomes her room again," Dwalin replied.

Fíli remained silent, but walked over to the bed, careful to not stumble on any of the new debris, and picked up the doll's head. It had not been damaged. He stared at it. White porcelain. A child's toy. Abandoned. Lost. Lost like so many others. And just like he was with everything else, he was powerless to make it better, to alleviate the grievances.

"I want her to be happy," he whispered almost inaudibly.

Dwalin caught his glance and held it. There was a deep sadness in the old warrior's eyes.

"Aye, you and me both," he finally said gravely.

"She should have a home to return to," declared Fíli. "Not… _this!_"

He made an all-encompassing gesture around the room. Smaug and the orcs. They had destroyed everything. Everything.

Dwalin looked around the room as well. For a while they remained silent and lost in their own thoughts. Then Dwalin heaved himself upright and made his way along the walls, surveying, tapping gently here and there. It was a slow process. His bad leg was still barely able to carry him, but he had obviously left his cane behind in his haste to find the source of the nocturnal disturbance. Fíli watched him carefully.

"I'm no architect or miner," Dwalin finally said. "But to me it looks like there was no unredeemable structural damage done in here. That can all be cleaned up, repaired and replaced."

"Not now, though."

"We still have time. They won't be here for another few weeks yet."

"We cannot spare the manpower," Fíli stated decisively. "There are more urgent issues to tackle. Restoring one room when the same effort could restore a row of houses in less-damaged areas, I cannot justify that."

"Aye," Dwalin agreed reluctantly. They both knew that Fíli was right. There was no space for nostalgia and romanticism when the lives and livelihoods of so many would soon depend on Erebor. But Dwalin was not so easily defeated. "But what if we restored it without using any of the work crews?" he suggested.

"I appreciate your offer, Dwalin," Fíli said. "But there is only so much you and I can do. Neither of us work in stone. We would do more damage than we would do good."

"Aye," Dwalin agreed. "But I'm not the only one who has been kept off the official work rota. There are a few more who are eager to contribute to Erebor's renewal in whatever way they can."

"Everyone who has not been assigned work has very good reasons to put recovery above work for the time being," Fíli said, staring poignantly at Dwalin's side. A nasty wound that had become infected despite their best efforts and still caused his friend significant trouble.

"I'm not talking about full shifts of heavy mining duties here," Dwalin clarified. "But what is there to lose? Let me try and find out what a few determined hands can do to this one room."

Eventually, Fíli agreed to let Dwalin recruit as many willing invalids as he could find to try and restore Dís' old room to its former glory. He was reluctant to let anyone help with such a personal project, but at the same time he desperately wanted to be able to offer his mother something that was actually good about Erebor.

* * *

><p>[1] This is the Kohima epitaph by John Maxwell Edmonds, written for a memorial to those who fell in the Battle of Kohima, India, in 1944.<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, Fíli was delighted to see that Bilbo had returned from his trip to Dale. The hobbit beamed up at him as Fíli pushed Kíli through the kitchen door. Kíli was in his usual cheerful mood again and the atmosphere in the low room seemed to brighten around him as he got everybody to smile at his jokes. Bilbo in particular seemed glad to see him and Fíli suspected it was because his brother reminded him of Thorin, a younger, more carefree Thorin. Thorin as he should have been. The hobbit ushered them towards the near end of the table which gave Kíli enough space for his wheeled chair. Then he dashed off and returned with two cups of tea for them, putting them on the table and busying himself with a flask. Fíli almost hugged him in delight when he saw that there was milk in that flask. Milk that made his tea a lot more enjoyable.

The rest of the day was a lot less enjoyable. Fíli felt like he was running around at a frantic pace, but an avalanche of questions was always at his heels. Could he look at this? Sign that? Have a quick word here? Make a decision there? There was not a moment when he was not needed in at least four corners of the mountain simultaneously. At least their efforts were starting to show. The gold that had lain scattered all over the mountain was now once again in the vaults or other storerooms that had been turned into vaults, since the dragon had destroyed many of the original ones. Glóin was in charge of sorting and cataloguing every item.

Surprisingly, despite or maybe because of the massive amount of treasure, there had been relatively little concern about theft so far. The small community in Erebor stuck together through desperate times and after the horrors they had seen, none of them seemed to be susceptible to the dragon sickness. There were more important things than gold and treasure.

Fíli only made it back to the kitchen he shared with his uncle's company after night had fallen outside the mountain. The others had had their dinner and while some were smoking around the fire, several of his friends had apparently gone to bed already. Bombur handed him a bowl full of thick stew and a chunk of bread. Fíli took the food gratefully and settled down at the table. It was good to sit down and eat and not be pestered by anyone for once.

The peaceful moment did not last long. Fíli had barely finished his dinner, when Nori appeared in the doorframe.

"Fíli?" he asked of the room at large.

"Yes, I'm at the table," Fíli confirmed.

"Come with me," Nori said and turned on his heal.

Dori sputtered some apologise while the others just smirked and chuckled at the indignant way in which his middle brother was treating their king. Fíli just shrugged and got up without delay. What the former thief lacked in tact, he made up for in common sense. He had shown himself to be a most valuable member of the company throughout their quest, a valiant fighter and now, in Erebor, he was clearly showing that Ori was not the only member of his family who was blessed with a quick wit. Nori was constantly testing their defences and advising Glóin on matters of security for the time when more people would once again populate the mountain. He would not summon Fíli thus without need.

Fíli had to walk quickly to catch up with Nori. After the initial shock and frustration had worn off, Nori had quickly returned to his usual swagger and utter self-confidence. From the way he acted, few would have guessed that he was blind. As any who had surprised him in the passing months had experienced, he was just as potentially deadly now as he had been while he still had his eyesight. He was walking with a long, thin cane that he used to feel the ground in front of him, walking towards the royal quarters.

Fíli found himself desperately hoping that this was not a summons from Dáin. His cousin had been a valuable councillor and guide since the battle, but he was even grumpier than Thorin and Fíli would rather spend his evening stuck down a mineshaft than in Dáin's chamber.

They walked past Dáin's chamber, but only when Nori deftly stepped over the low barrier into the blocked off corridor, did Fíli realise where they were heading. His mother's room.

"They are here!" he heard Kíli half-whisper. Just from his brother's tone he could tell he was excited. As he entered the room behind Nori, the first thing he saw was Kíli's grin which was so wide that the corners of his mouth seemed to be about to meet his ears.

"Look!" his younger brother exclaimed and made an all-encompassing gesture around the room. Fíli knew he would have been bouncing up and down if he could.

Dwalin was standing behind Kíli's chair, with Bofur and Bilbo at his sides. All of them were smiling and as Fíli looked around the room, he could see why. He did indeed find out what a few determined hands could do to this one room, just like Dwalin had said the previous night. They had certainly made a huge difference. The rubble had been cleared and the entire room had been cleaned. Gone was the dust. Gone was the darkness, as a multitude of lamps illuminated the scene. The bed had lost the remnants of its crumbling stone posts. The porcelain doll's head was sitting on a wooden table they had brought in. In the corner where the wall had caved in, they had placed wooden support beams. The broken marble plates that covered the floor had been lifted up and placed against the far wall, revealing a deep crack in the stone beneath them. Fíli's eyes lingered on that crack.

Bofur seemed to sense his concern.

"Nothing much to worry about here," he said. "Nothing a bit of lime, gravel and sand cannot fix. We'll pour cement into it tomorrow, give it a few days to dry, and replace the flooring. Nobody will notice a thing."

Fíli took his word for it. He was learning a lot about cement lately. Thanks to the accursed plumbing particularly about hydraulic cement, which was able to harden under water. But he could not claim to have a particular interest in it.

"You have made great progress," Fíli said. While the room did not look homely by any stretch of imagination, it no longer had the air of death and destruction it had possessed less than a day ago. "I could not have asked for more."

"Not like you would ever ask for anything," Kíli interrupted.

"Dwalin told us that this was your mother's room and we thought we should give her a proper homecoming," Bilbo added.

"After all her sons are the reason we are all here today," Bofur concluded.

You are all here, but you are not whole in body or in spirit, the nasty little voice in Fíli's head supplied. But for once he had little trouble silencing it. They had worked hard, they had achieved much and they were set to continue their work, all for Dís' sake. It was a moving display of friendship and loyalty.

The day had been a disaster. The main aqueduct had not so much sprung a leak; it had pretty much exploded right above the entrance hall. It had taken more than an hour to divert the course of the water from the reservoirs that collected water from springs high up on the mountain's flanks. More than a foot of water covered the hall in place. At least there had been no serious injuries. To make matters worse, the ravens had reported that the caravan from the Ered Luin would arrive in about three days' time. They would come to a city that currently relied solely on two deep wells for its water supply. Fíli had already arranged for water to be pumped in shifts around the clock to merely sustain the one thousand people that currently resided in Erebor. He had no idea how they would manage to support an even larger population. The threat of disease was rearing its ugly head again with the standing water in the midst of their settlement. The day had been a disaster.

Fíli was stomping from one side of the council chamber to the other in a way that a trapped animal might. He felt very much trapped in this accursed mountain. His kingdom, hah! It was more of a crumbling ruin, a miserable pit that tried to defeat him. This was not the first incident, merely the worst one. Every day something broke or collapsed or refused to be moved.

"Calm yourself, Fíli," Balin said in his most serene voice. "We have weathered every storm so far, we will cope with this."

Fíli turned on his heel.

"Of course we will!" he thundered. "Dwarves endure, that's what you always say, isn't it? But how much longer, Balin! How much more do my people have to endure?"

"I'm sure we will soon…"

"It's this accursed mountain!" Fíli shouted in a display of frustration that was much more customary for his short-tempered younger brother and kicked the wall in front of him.

"It is fighting me every step of the way," he accused. "I'm king of the mountain and yet it is desperately trying to defeat me!"

He violently punched the rough stone, only slightly regretting his outburst as pain blossomed in his knuckles. They would be black and blue tomorrow, but it felt good to vent his anger.

"You are wrong," Balin said simply. Fíli looked up. It was unusual for Balin to contradict him now. Fíli had managed to keep him from addressing him as 'my liege' but his oldest cousin was still very formal with him.

"The Mountain owes you no allegiance," Balin explained. "The Mountain cannot be ruled. You are not King of the Mountain. You are King under the Mountain. You are the ruler of the people. The people who adore and support you."

_Show some gratitude _was left unsaid, but hung between them nonetheless.

"I apologise," Fíli said stiffly, "I should have controlled my temper."

Balin laid a hand on his forearm and looked him into the eye.

"You are understandably frustrated, Fíli. You are concerned for your people. But you cannot control all of our fortunes. Show some concern for yourself. You are not responsible for everything that happens."

"I still should have…"

"The engineers said there had been no warning signs. There is nothing you could have done."

Fíli hung his head. Whatever he did, he did not seem to be able to fix anything. But he had to try.

"I will go down to the wells, see if they need any help with the pumping," he said, collecting himself and once again speaking in his customary calm tone.

"You will do no such thing," Balin contradicted him. "The dwarves down there are perfectly capable of pumping water without the aid of their king. Come back to the house with me. Enjoy a quiet evening for once."

"I just have to…" Fíli tried once more.

"You have to see your friends and actually sit down with them for more than a hurried bowl of porridge in the morning," said Balin.

"Maybe you are right," Fíli relented. If Balin was so insistent, maybe there was some truth to the matter.

"I forgot to mention, but I met my brother earlier and he mentioned that they had finished Lady Dís' room. Would you like to see it?"

Fíli's mood brightened considerably at that. Dwalin and his crew of invalids had done magnificent work, but he had not been back in the room for at least a week, being kept away by all of his other duties.

"I would like that very much," he said and they made their way over to the royal quarters.

The corridor was no longer barricaded. It had clearly been swept and mopped, and, more significantly, new support columns and some iron braces had been put into place. It was once again safe to walk here. The heavy door had been polished to a shine. Fíli carefully traced the runes of his mother's name. Dís, daughter, sister and now mother of kings.

He pushed the door open, Balin respectfully waiting a few steps behind him. Fíli's entrance startled Kíli who was sitting in front of a wooden dressing table, focused on some handicraft by the light of an oil lamp.

"Fíli!" he exclaimed, his head jerking up and eyes widening as he saw his brother. "You were not supposed to be here yet!"

"Dwalin mentioned that it was ready," Fíli said apologetically.

"Oh the oaf! I wanted to tell you myself! I wanted to show you around!"

"Show me around now?" Fíli suggested.

"Oh, fine," Kíli huffed, but he could not entirely banish an excited grin from his face.

Fíli could see why. The room was unrecognisable. It had been transformed from the ruin he had first encountered mere weeks ago into a cosy home. It was pleasantly warm, a merry fire crackling in the hearth. A large glass jar stood on the mantelpiece, filled with the marbles Fíli had stumbled upon during his first visit. Two comfortable looking overstuffed armchairs were set on either side of a low table and a sheepskin rug was spread out before the fireplace. Fíli thought he could recognise Bilbo's hand in the arrangement.

A large gilded mirror occupied one corner of the room. It seemed to have survived the wrath of the dragon unscathed or at the very least had been restored with great care. A few of the lamps that were scattered around the room also glimmered golden, but generally the atmosphere was one of comfort and understated elegance rather than splendour and opulence.

"You know how much she complained about our tiny little looking glass in the Ered Luin," said Kíli, following his glance. "This should be a bit better."

"Just a tad," answered Fíli with a smile. The mirror reflected both him and his brother from head to toe. They looked good, he had to admit. Leaner, sterner and more mature than the last time he had seen their reflection. Their beards had grown longer in the months since the battle. Kíli's dark and his own blond. There was no doubt that they were grown dwarves now. A king and… a cripple. His face fell as he looked upon the reflection of Kíli's chair. He made it easy to forget sometimes that everything had changed on that fateful day. Kíli's jovial voice broke through Fíli's dark thoughts.

"Look what Nori found," he exclaimed, wheeling himself towards the opposite wall across the floor that was smooth once again. Not a single crack remained of the deep chasm that had gaped in the stone. Bofur's mining experience had indeed come in handy.

Fíli followed his brother to where he was looking at something on the wall. All Fíli could see was a small brace that might once have held a torch. He raised a questioning eyebrow, but Kíli just chuckled.

"Watch!"

Kíli stretched for the iron ring and gently turned, before pulling it out of the wall revealing a good hand width of a thin iron stem. To Fíli's surprise a small door in the stone swung open to expose a space that was at least a foot squared in size.

"Smaug did not find everything," Kíli said smiling up at him with pride.

"Reach in," he encouraged his older brother, "I can't quite reach that far up."

Fíli did as he was bid and felt smooth stone under his fingertips. Towards the back, he touched something else. His fingers closed around a solid leather pouch. As he pulled it out he saw that it was darkened with age, but still in good condition. He reverently removed it from its hiding place, taking it over to the dressing table where he undid the claps at its side. It opened up to reveal a delicate set of jewellery. Shining red rubies sparkled on the dark leather, set in bright mithril. He stared in awe. They had seen many riches in Erebor, but this necklace and the matching earrings took his breath away.

"Can you imagine mum wearing these?" Kíli asked. Fíli could only nod. His mother's past was not entirely lost and burned away. It was still here. Maybe that carefree little girl had not been entirely lost in all the turmoil and suffering of the past 172 years.

"This is beautiful," he finally said. "How ever did Nori discover this when even Smaug didn't?"

"He has a nose for it. He just taps the walls and feels his way around the entire room. A dragon is no match for Nori when it comes to finding treasure!"

Fíli smiled at him. Kíli's enthusiasm was still the same. His eyes fell onto the handicraft his brother had been working on. The porcelain doll's head. But it was more than a head now. A face had been painted onto it once more and long dark hair framed its delicate features. The doll had also acquired a body. A wooden arm stuck out at an odd angle and a flimsy dress was stretched over the limbs.

"You did this?" he asked in awe.

"I carved the arms and legs, but Bifur put it all together and Bilbo made the dress," Kíli explained.

Fíli gently took the doll into his hands, fearful that he might break the delicate figure. He tenderly manoeuvred the arm into the sleeve and closed the miniscule fastenings at the back of the neck.

"It is beautiful," he whispered. He cradled the doll in his arms and carried it over to the bed where he placed it on the furs. Not the shaggy warg furs the rest of them had been using, the hair on these was smooth and glossy. Fíli looked around. The bed had pillars again, though the new ones were made of wood. Freshly carved into intricate geometric patterns the smell was refreshing and surprisingly alive so deep within the mountain. Fíli took a closer look and saw that his own sigil repeated over and over adorned the pillar at the foot of the bed, its twin on the other side covered in Kíli's sigil. The beam closest to him was embellished with their mother's sign. Leaning forward slightly, Fíli peeked into the dark corner on the other side of the bed. Thorin. All four of them united again. Together. Holding up the canopy.

The canopy. It was the only thing that was not right. It was neither velvet nor blue and no stars adorned it. Of course he had known that it would be impossible to recreate anything like what had been in its place all those years ago. His friends had worked miracles already restoring the room to its present state. There was no way they could have procured something as splendid as what Dís had described. The new canopy was yellow. A lightweight linen embroidered with golden thread.

"It's not the same…" Kíli said hesitantly and Fíli swallowed his disappointment.

"It is wonderful," he lied. "This entire room is a marvel. Thank you, Kíli. Thank you so much!"

"Everybody did their bit. See, we are not useless, none of us are," Kíli said with unconcealed pride. "And mum will have something to come home to now."

"Yes," said Fíli. "The mountain may be in ruins, but at least we can give her this."

He crouched down, leaning on the armrests of Kíli's chair to bring their foreheads together. It had been many years since he had been the one that had to lower his head for this tender gesture.

The trumpets were braying once again and Fíli was even more nervous than he had been at his coronation. The men called the day Bealltainn[1]. The last day of the dark half of the year, the time when summer finally took over. And with the summer arrived the people from the Ered Luin. His people. And amongst them his mother.

Dáin's warriors opened the great front gate, carefully restored for reasons of security as much as pride. Fíli swallowed heavily and clenched his fists around the hilts of his swords. It was no enemy coming through these gates, but it felt remarkably like going into battle. Behind him were assembled all of the dwarves and men that had spent the winter in Erebor. The entire population of his kingdom. On either side of him were Kíli and Dwalin. Fíli did not look at them. He knew that if he did, he would lose all of his composure.

As the first ponies appeared in the doorway, he moved in front of Kíli. There was his mother, dressed in a simple traveling cloak, but sat proudly on a tall mare, towering above those around her. Her dark hair flowed down her back, her equally dark beard intricately braided close to her jaw. Dwalin stepped forward and offered her his hand, which she took gratefully. She did not seem to notice him flinch when she put her weight onto him as she dismounted. Her eyes had latched onto her eldest son. Fíli wanted to run towards her, but with great effort checked his pace to a fast stride. Everything else seemed to fade when he finally stood in front of his mother. He was unsure how to proceed. He could see tears in her eyes despite her broad smile. He wanted to just crawl into her arms, but that certainly was not a very kingly thing to do. His mother put an end to his deliberations by embracing him tightly. For a moment he just breathed in her scent. She smelled of heather.

"I have missed you so much," Dís murmured into his ear, "Fíli, my darling, it's so good to have you back."

He squeezed her tightly in response and Dís let him for a while, lowering her head onto his shoulder. Then she took a step back and looked him into the eye. Her glance was appraising and her smile widened.

"You look good, my dear. Such a grown dwarf, my golden boy. I hope you are not working and worrying yourself silly," she said, stroking his hair with her last sentence. Then she went back to hugging him tightly.

He felt it when she spotted Kíli over his shoulder. Her entire body went rigid. She was a good bit taller than him so he had known all along that he could not shield his brother from her view. He had known all along that this moment would come. In the blink of an eye, his mother had flown out of his arms and towards Kíli. Fíli lowered his head and closed his eyes. He had failed his mother.

He stalked over to stand next to his brother's chair. Dwalin stood there, leaning on his war hammer, every inch the image of a perfect dwarven warrior except for the tears that were sliding down his cheeks. Kíli was caught in a tight embrace with his mother, sobbing quietly on her shoulder.

"My sunshine, my baby boy, it's so good to have you back," Dís whispered. She looked up slightly, still cradling her youngest's head against her shoulder. Seeing Fíli's distraught face, she beckoned him over. Fíli crouched down next to Kíli, putting a hand on his crying brother's shoulder. Dís put an arm around each of her sons and pressed their foreheads together.

"Thank Mahal you are both still here. Thank Mahal I get to see you again," she said. "All these months were plagued with worry and dark images of what might have become of you. I'm so glad to have you in my arms once more."

"But Kíli…" Fíli started.

"Is here today because you both protected your brother and cared for each other," his mother cut him off. "I'm so proud of you."

She stroked their shoulders until Kíli's sobbing had subsided into occasional sniffles.

"Let's get the official bit over with, shall we?"

She stood tall and greeted Dáin, Balin and Dwalin. A regal figure, every bit the dwarrowdam who had just led her people across the endless expanse of the Wilderland. Fíli hoped he could channel at least a small proportion of her composure as he addressed the assembled crowd. Everything had been organised. The entrance hall was dry and the water supply restored. Everyone would have a place to sleep in tonight and a good meal to warm them up. Ori had written his speech and it was perfectly appropriate. Everything went well. And his mother was still proud of him. Despite everything.

"Would you like to accompany us to pay respect to the fallen down in the crypts, Lady Dís," said Dáin who had become a lot more polite and almost comically insecure in the presence of a dwarrowdam.

"I look forward to visiting the tombs, but let us first take care of the living. We have had a long and tiring journey, cousin Dáin," said Dís who was tall enough to look down even on him. "If you would excuse me for a few hours, I much desire to retire to my accommodation for now to rest and freshen up. I'm sure my companions wish for much the same."

"Of course, as you wish," Dáin stammered, bowing so low that his beard swept the floor.

"I'll eat Bofur's hat if she actually wants to rest," Kíli mouthed at his brother who could barely suppress a rather unkingly chuckle.

"Follow me, please. I shall lead you to your quarters," said Balin formally and offered Dís his arm. Fíli followed with Kíli and Dwalin formed their rear guard. They took measured steps as they made their way through the crowd. The crowd parted in front of Dís, the men and dwarves bowing, the women curtseying. The Men were staring open-mouthed at the first dwarrowdam they have ever knowingly laid eyes on.

They kept up the regal façade until they had reached the corridor with the royal apartments. Then Balin hugged his younger cousin tightly.

"Oh, I have missed you, Dís," he said. "Welcome back to Erebor."

Dwalin was a bit more hesitant, but Dís grabbed him nonetheless and leaned her head against his broad chest with a sigh.

"Welcome home, lassie, welcome home," he grumbled, awkwardly stroking her hair.

"Thank you," Dís said simply. "Thank you for letting me come home."

"Is there anywhere where we can talk in private?" she asked of the assembled dwarves.

"There is indeed," exclaimed Kíli. "There is something we wanted to show you, mum!"

"We'll leave you to it," said Balin, withdrawing a few steps. "Fíli and Kíli have worked hard for this. Take all the time you need. I shall make your excuses."

"Nobody shall bother you," Dwalin stated, taking up his post in the corridor.

Fíli took his mother's arm and together they followed Kíli towards…

"My room!" Dís gasped, her palms pressed flat against the door she recognised from her earliest childhood. She glanced at Fìli questioningly and when he nodded his encouragement, she pushed open the heavy stone door.

Fíli and Kíli lingered on the doorstep, fidgeting agitatedly as their mother stepped into the room that still bore her name. She took it all in in silence.

"It is beautiful, absolutely beautiful," she finally said. "You did all this?"

"All credit goes to Kíli."

"I had a lot of help. Everybody did his bit. Everybody wanted to welcome you home."

"Thank you, thank you so much," Dís said, then paused as her eyes lingered on the bed. "Eydís," she gasped.

Fíli was confused for a moment. He knew his grandmother's name, but not much else about her as Thorin had been very young when she died and Dís herself had never met her mother. With a few long steps, Dís crossed the room and gently picked up the small doll that sat on the bed.

"Eydís," she repeated, "I named her after my mother because it was one of the few things I had to link me to her. It was hers before it was passed down to me."

Fíli stared at her in awe. It had only been a small gesture. He had not expected it to mean that much. Kíli had already moved over to the secret compartment in the wall and unlocked it swiftly. Fíli went to help him. When he took out the dark leather pouch, his mother was at his side.

"These were hers as well," she explained breathlessly as he uncovered the rubies. "Father gave them to her when they were courting. I had not expected to ever see them again."

Fíli picked up the thin mithril chain and stepped behind his mother. He gently gathered her dark hair to one side and slipped the necklace around her neck. He fumbled a bit with the delicate fastening, but when he finally managed to unite the minute hook and loop, his mother grasped his hands.

"You make me feel like a princess," she whispered.

"A queen," Fíli replied. "A Queen under the Mountain."

"I never expected any of this," Dís said. "This room… my room, it is perfect."

She had all but shared a tiny room with Thorin for decades, only separated by a hastily put up wall between their beds to give them a modicum of privacy. She would never have to live like that again, Fíli vowed. From now on she would be treasured by all those who lived in Erebor.

"Not quite," he said, pointing at the canopy. "We were not able to give you back your starry sky."

Dís said nothing, but instead walked over to the bed, her fingers briefly lingering on the carved bedposts. She looked up at the canopy. Not dark blue, but pale yellow. Not adorned with stars, but with suns.

"No more stars. No more cold nights filled with memories," she said contemplatively. Then, turning towards her sons, added, "It is perfect. Our days of dwelling in the dark and in the past are over. You have given Durin's Folk a brand new day, the sunrise of our people, Fíli."

Dís went over to the dressing table where a large teapot stood atop a small flame. She carefully poured the hot liquid into three cups, added milk to all of them and finally stirred three heaped spoons full of sugar into one. They settled into the armchairs by the fire.

"Tell me about your adventures," Dís said.

Kíli excitedly started to recount the story of their quest while Fíli settled back against the cushions. He sipped the sweet tea and felt it warm him to the core. For the first time in many months, he felt truly happy.

* * *

><p>[1] Bealltainn or Beltane is the Gaelic May Day marking the beginning of the summer season.<p> 


End file.
